


It's a Date

by vcg73



Category: Glee
Genre: Baking, Best Friends, Gen, M/M, Starkurt, Sweet fluffiness, potential relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:28:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26398687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vcg73/pseuds/vcg73
Summary: Sometimes baking is all about chemistry.
Relationships: Elliott "Starchild" Gilbert/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 5
Kudos: 50





	It's a Date

“Oh m’Gaw! Dese’r amaving! Wemom?”

Kurt rolled his eyes and passed his friend the glass of cold milk he had been sipping from as he worked. Elliott had walked in and made a beeline for the array of fluffy golden cookies sitting on the cooling racks, promptly popping one into his mouth with no regard for the fact that it had come out of the oven only ten seconds earlier. He was currently attempting to chew the hot cookie without touching it to his tongue or the tender roof of his mouth, but still taste it and talk at the same time.

“Lemon, yes, and you might want to give this next batch a minute to cool before you try one,” Kurt advised, placing a second pan full of generously chocolate chipped dough balls into the oven.

Chugging the remainder of the milk down along with a second sample from the racks, Elliott licked his lips and grinned as he handed back the empty glass. “You didn’t tell me we were baking today.”

He snorted. “We, huh? I’m pretty sure baking involves more than just scarfing down the end result. And stop eating all my cookies! I’m making these for the homeless shelter.”

Elliott’s greedy fingers paused halfway to grabbing another, cheeks flushing a little. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Guess I should’ve figured that since One Three Hill is providing the entertainment for tonight’s party. Uh, well then, pass me an apron and point me toward the supplies. I’ll mix up a batch of snickerdoodles while you pour us some more milk.”

Unable to resist the winsome smile that came along with this offer, Kurt nodded and rummaged through the plastic packing crate that held his glassware. Picking one with tiny flowers frosted into the glass that Rachel had picked up at a flea market, he opened the fridge to pour their drinks and said, “I didn’t even know you knew how to make snickerdoodles. I haven’t had those in years.”

“Oh, man, they’re the best! They’re my mom’s specialty. She taught me the recipe when I turned ten. Her family has lived in New England since, like, the Mayflower and this recipe has been handed down through generations. Today only a handful of people in the entire world know it!”

Kurt grinned, strongly suspecting that his leg was being pulled. “Well, then!” he said, handing over a fresh glass of milk. “Should I leave the room? Put on a blindfold? Pinch my nose shut so I don’t accidentally guess the secret ingredient?”

“I think I can trust you. But just to make sure…” Elliott’s face went solemn, but his eyes continued to sparkle with fun as he held up his right hand and offered Kurt’s recipe book with the other, waiting until Kurt obligingly placing his own right hand on the book and raised his left. “Kurt Hummel, do you solemnly swear upon pain of burnt cookies and fallen layer cakes never to divulge this secret to The Food Network, or any other for-profit entity?”

Struggling not to laugh, Kurt forced his features into an equally solemn set and nodded. “I so swear.”

“Great! Okay then, we’ll need a cup of butter, a cup of sugar, half a cup of brown sugar, two eggs, three cups of flour, baking soda, salt, cream of tartar, and cinnamon. I’ll also need a saucepan and a couple of mixing bowls.”

With a nod, Kurt gathered the requested items. Most were already on hand since he had been baking for the past hour. Since his favorite mixing bowl already had chocolate chip dough in it, he quickly washed up the bowl he’d used for the lemon cookies and dug out a large but slightly worn out spare one that he’d brought from Ohio. “Pan’s over the stove. What do you need it for?”

“Because that is the secret ingredient,” he explained, wriggling out of his leather jacket, leaving himself clad in an artistically ragged gray sleeveless t-shirt, and throwing on Kurt’s borrowed apron, which bore the words ‘Sit back and relax. You must be exhausted from watching me do everything!’ Glancing down at the words, he laughed. “Feeling a little passive aggressive, were we?”

Kurt grinned. “Just a little. The others didn’t even get the joke.”

“Figures,” he grunted. “Okay, so we start with the butter.”

He measured out a cup of butter and transferred it into the saucepan. While Kurt watched with interested eyes, he turned the stove on to medium heat and began whisking the butter with slow even strokes. He continued this patiently for three or four minutes until the butter was melted and slightly frothy, emitting a pleasant almost nutty aroma as it browned. Then he poured the butter into the larger bowl to cool and began mixing in the sugars, cream of tartar, and eggs together with it. In the second bowl, he blended his dry ingredients together, then gradually blended the two.

“You’re good at that,” Kurt commented, not even bothering to pretend that he was not admiring the play of strong muscles in Elliott’s exposed shoulder as he beat the dough together with firm pressure, preferring to stir the ingredients by hand rather than borrow Kurt’s hand mixer.

“Thanks.” Preening a little, he deliberately flexed his arm a little more. He and Kurt had never dated, but a little flirting between friends was always welcome. “Could you sprinkle some white sugar and cinnamon onto a sheet of waxed paper for me?”

Kurt nodded, pausing a moment to take his baking batch out of the oven as the timer dinged and transferring them to the racks. He quickly shifted the lemon cookies into a waiting tin lined with a paper towel, leaving the lid off to allow them to finish cooling. Once that was done, he quickly cleared a space and laid out the requested waxed paper, covering it with a small amount of cinnamon sugar. While this was done, Elliott had been molding the cookie dough into little walnut sized globes. He took each dough ball and rolled it through the sugar, setting the finished ones in a neat row until they could be baked, since Kurt still had another two pans of chocolate chip ready to go and there would be no more baking sheets available until one of them had hands free to wash the newly emptied one.

An hour later, the two-man baking team had finished their creations and sampled at least one of each variety of cookie, leaving dozens for the enjoyment of those attending tonight’s party.

“Dani will be so sorry she decided to meet us at the shelter instead of coming by early,” Kurt said, dipping a snicker-doodle in his milk, frowning a bit at the resultant spice decorating his drink, then shrugging and simply belting back what was left to wash down the last of the treat.

“I know, man. She missed out,” Elliott agreed, licking his lips happily.

Kurt held out a hand for Elliott’s empty glass, taking them to the sink to finishing washing up the last of the dishes. Kurt was a ‘clean as you go’ baker and his kitchen was far from the disaster area Elliott’s would have been had they done this project at his place. The application of a wet sponge and a little scrubbing, and the counters were also immaculately clean. Only the waiting tins of warm, neatly arranged cookies gave proof of the afternoon’s activity.

Elliott shook his head, admiring the almost military precision of his friend’s baking style. “You know, we should do this again,” he said. “Maybe cook something next time. I mean, I don’t really know how to make anything except stews and curries, but I’ll bet you could teach me. If you were okay with that.”

A big smile met this suggestion. Kurt looked like he’d just been given a wonderful present, clasping his hands and bouncing up on his toes with sudden excitement. “Of course! I have loads of cook books with recipes we could try. Some of them I’ve wanted to make for ages, but there never seemed much point in going to all that effort just for myself.”

“What about your roommates?”

He shrugged. “Santana isn’t a very adventurous eater, and I never know from week to week whether Rachel will be vegetarian, vegan, protein rich, or all carbs. One week she decided out of the blue that she was going to do a liquid-cleanse that she had read about in a magazine. It was supposed to last for a month, but three days into it, I was awakened in the middle of the night by the sounds of her going to town on leftover Chinese food. She'd already wiped out three little bags chips and my newly purchased pint of strawberry-cheesecake ice cream.”

Elliott laughed. He could picture that easily. For such a tiny woman, Rachel could really pack it away when she was in the mood. “Well, I’ll try anything once. Let’s make a pact to get together once a week and try out a brand new recipe. Something neither of us has tried before.”

Kurt beamed. “How about Fridays? Friday Night Dinner was a staple in my house growing up. We would always make the time to get together, no matter what, to have a sit down meal together on that night. I tried to bring the tradition back with my friends, but it only lasted a few meals before everyone started begging off for various reasons. Do you want to try it?”

Pleased that Kurt was willing to share a special tradition with him, perhaps in return for sharing his own family recipe, Elliott said, “It’s a date.”

Unexpectedly, Kurt blushed and turned away. “It’s getting late. Maybe we’d better get all these cookies packed up. I was planning to call for a ride instead of trying to get all these safely to the shelter on the subway.”

“Good idea,” he said, wondering at that sudden mood shift. Kurt’s reaction to his flippant use of the word ‘date’ had given him pause. He considered just letting it go, but … somehow he did not want to let it go. “Kurt?”

“Yeah?”

Elliott took a deep breath, hoping he was not about to make a mistake and cause the rest of the night to become horribly awkward. “I had a really good time today.”

“Me too,” he agreed with a smile.

“Uh, yeah, so I was thinking. That is … I mean, I always have a good time when I’m with you.”

Kurt’s expression softened, becoming almost wistful. “So do I.”

“Right, so … do you think it’s weird for best friends to …”

“To …” Kurt repeated, brows raising as he encouraged Elliott to finish the thought.

Elliott paused. It was now or never. He wasn’t seeing anyone, and Kurt had been single for a decent enough span of time not to seem like he was pouncing on a vulnerable heart. He had always told himself that Kurt wasn’t his type, but Elliott knew that the sheer number of times he had given himself that reminder pretty much proved it a false claim.

“Would you be willing to go out with me some time?” he blurted. “Not as friends. Or, I mean, of course we’re still friends, but … as more than friends?”

Kurt blinked, looking as though he was not quite sure he was hearing correctly. Then he smiled a little shyly and said, “You mean, you and me; like a, go out together, do something fun, kiss at the end of the evening … type of thing?”

Elliott grinned, liking the idea a lot now that he was hearing it out loud. “Exactly. Maybe not Friday, because I’m already having recipe night with my best bud on Friday, but how about Saturday?”

Laughing at his words, but clearly touched that Elliott did not want to chance losing their friendship by throwing dating into the mix, Kurt ducked his head and said, “That sounds great. You told me you’d been wanting to visit the Museum of Modern Art, right? Maybe we could go together. Or is that a dumb idea?”

“I think it’s a great idea,” he said, already picturing the two of them strolling slowly hand in hand through the halls of the great structure. “And maybe get some coffee and take a walk through Central Park afterward.”

Kurt’s eyes shone at the mere mention of something so unabashedly romantic. “I’d love to.”

“Then we definitely have a date.” Wondering how he was going to contain his sudden giddy joy all evening, Elliott reached out and took Kurt’s hand, giving it a little squeeze before letting go and returning to the task of packing up the goodies for tonight’s party.

Stepping next to him, so that they stood side by side at the counter, Kurt accepted the cookie tin he was offered and settled it into a bag he’d brought out earlier for transporting. One by one, they packed the bag in this way, taking their time. They did not say anything more about their sudden change in status from best friends to possibly-more-than-friends, but the silence that stretched between them felt comfortable. Every so often, their arms would bump and they would exchange a smile that somehow felt both feel warmer and closer than it ever had before.

“I won’t do it until Saturday night,” Elliott remarked as the last tin was packed and the bag was closed up for travel. He pulled his jacket back on and accepted the warm blue scarf that Kurt held out with a scolding little cluck of his tongue, tucking it into place around his neck and down the front of his coat as he zipped the leather securely. He then lifted the strap of the cookie bag and settled it on his shoulder without asking, giving Kurt a chance to don his own coat and scarf and lock the door behind them.

“Do what?” Kurt asked as they started down the stairs together. His building had an elevator, but it was a risky proposition at the best of times.

Shifting the bag from one shoulder to the other, Elliott reached over and threaded his fingers through Kurt’s. “I was just thinking back there that I’d really like to kiss you, and that I felt kind of stupid for not realizing before today how much I wanted to do that.”

Kurt smiled and ducked his head. “Oh, that.”

“Yeah, that, and then I thought that I can’t do it. Not until Saturday night when I take you home. Or you take me home, whichever way it ends up. Because I’ve never been very good at the whole dating thing, but I want to do it right with you.”

He tipped his head, looking up at Elliott’s face with a fond smile. “That’s really sweet. I don’t really have a lot of experience at dating either. I have a weird habit of pining, then sort of falling in love without thinking it through, then moving in with people.”

Elliott laughed a little. “Sounds like we both have some catching up to do.”

“Agreed. So no kisses until Saturday,” Kurt said, still smiling as he checked his phone for the status of the car service driver he’d called. “How do you feel about hugging?”

“Friends hug,” he said, swinging an arm around Kurt’s shoulders in demonstration. “I could get into some serious post non-date hugging with you tonight. By Friday, we may be all the way up to snuggling.”

He laughed and squeezed Elliott’s waist. “I could be okay with that.”

Turning his head, Elliott looked down into Kurt’s eyes, noticing how pretty they looked in the light of the setting sun, shining blue with little flecks of green and gold. Before he could be tempted to break his own promise to himself, he planted his lips on Kurt’s hairline, pressing the soft skin fondly.

“Me too.”

THE END


End file.
